


Night Out

by Fever_Dreams



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical spiders, Do Not Archive, Edgeplay, F/M, Gags, Hair-pulling, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Mind Control, Orgasm Delay, Other, Seduction, Spider Venom, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fever_Dreams/pseuds/Fever_Dreams
Summary: At least it wasn’t crowded or Martin would have felt even more self conscious about having a whole booth to himself. He tried to relax and watch the match playing on the television above the bar when he heard someone sit down across from him. Expecting one of the Archive staff, there was a woman he didn’t recognize sitting across from him instead. She slid a pint glass across the table to him with a coy look.





	1. Care for a drink?

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, just spiders

Martin fidgeted with a coaster and checked the time on his phone. He had gotten there early so it was completely understandable that no one else had joined him in the pub yet. The thought of getting something from the bar occurred to him five minutes ago but he discarded it. He didn’t want to be a round ahead of everyone else when they got here. Tim already teased him enough about flushing bright crimson before he was finished with his second ale. Besides, tonight wasn’t about getting wasted and drowning sorrows it was about simply existing outside of work as normal people. Or at least as close to normal as any of them was capable of being anymore.

He glanced nervously at the door again. For a brief moment he entertained the thought that he was in the wrong place but no, he’d triple checked Tim’s original text. This was the place and he’d not gotten any further texts from him, Melanie, or Basira about a change in venue or anyone running behind.

 _I’m still ten minutes early, m_ _aybe I should have waited outside,_  he told himself before thinking better of it. _No, then I would have ended up pacing out front, I’m better off in here._

At least it wasn’t crowded or Martin would have felt even more self conscious about having a whole booth to himself. He tried to relax and watch the match playing on the television above the bar when he heard someone sit down across from him. Expecting one of the Archive staff, there was a woman he didn’t recognize sitting across from him instead. She slid a pint glass across the table to him with a coy look.

Martin smiled nervously. “Hello?” He winced briefly at his own nervousness and cleared his throat. “I mean, hello,” he tried again.  

She returned his smile, shyly lowering her head before looking up at him through thick lashes. Her dark eyes were full of promises that caught Martin off guard. A part of him thought of inviting her back to his place to take her up on them. Instead he found himself reaching up to tuck a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear.

Being so forward with a stranger unsettled him and he pulled his hand back with a hurried apology. “I--uhm, I don’t know why I did that just now. I usually-- I’m Martin, by the way.” He wrapped his hands around the drink she had given him if only to give his hands something to do.

Looking more fully at him, she tilted her head slightly to one side as she regarded him with faint amusement. He tried and failed to keep his eyes on her face as she trailed her left hand along the collar of her v-neck dress. They danced along the dark floral pattern and paused to finger open the top button. With barely a hesitation she continued on to the next button down, the smile on her lips turning wicked.

Martin came back to himself enough to look away. In the rafters, the web of an orb weaver caught his eye. It fluttered slightly in the air currents, had that been here the whole time? Usually he noticed that kind of thing.

The woman reached out and placed her hand on his, pulling his attention away from the ceiling. Looking at her his throat suddenly was suddenly very dry. Martin had already taken two swallows from his drink before his brain caught up enough to stop. He knew better than to accept a drink from stranger, didn’t he? He shrugged internally, she seemed harmless enough though, if a bit forward. The glass was halfway to his lips before he caught himself a second time. Martin shook his head a bit and deliberately set it down far off to the side.

She tightened her grip on his hand and a rush of heat flared in his chest. Martin let her pull it towards her without resistance. Warning tickled at the edge of his mind that something might not be entirely right here but she seemed so friendly. So welcoming. He would willingly follow her wherever she led him, why wouldn’t he? The woman pressed his fingers to her lips, placing a chase kiss there before pulling the tip of his index finger into her mouth. Martin let out a small noise as she pressed her teeth along his skin and began to gently suck.

Eyes slipping closed, Martin felt himself begin to relax as her lips pressed against his skin. He hadn’t been with anyone in rather a while and the prospect of companionship, even for a night definitely had its appeal. She was definitely good with her tongue, that was for sure.

Wait, hang on. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to him. (But what if it did?) To Tim maybe, but not Martin. (Aren’t you worth it too?) Beautiful women don’t just come up to people like him like this unless they want something. (She wants you to enjoy yourself.)

Sense finally overrode sensation and Martin withdrew his hand. He let out a shaky breath, trying to get himself under control. “I, um, well. T-T-Thank you? I’m flattered but, I’m actually waiting on some friends and I uh… I don’t even know your name?” He swallowed and shifted to stand, “I really should be going actually.”

She pouted and reached for his hand again. He was still off balance enough by the situation and apparently too polite to pull away. The woman ran her thumb softly along his wrist and gazed into his eyes. Martin found himself locked there for a time. They were stunning, a deep blue that seemed to pull him into their oceanic depths. The longer he looked the darker they seemed until they were almost black, faceted like gems.

A soft tickle on his arm pulled Martin back to himself. He looked down to see a brightly patterned spider crawling along his arm heading toward his elbow. Movement caught his eye as another spider scurried across the table. And another.

And another.

He traced them back to the woman. There were no spiders visible on her pale skin but she was undeniably the source. Mild surprise colored her delicate features as she saw him notice the spiders.

Taking care not to make his movements too sudden, Martin slowly lifted his hands from the table and away from the scuttling things there. “Oh, ha… I--uh, I know what you are. I’ve read about people like you.”

Her expression calmed when it became clear Martin wasn’t about to bolt. He’d read Trevor’s statement detailing his encounter with the spider person. The chance to get first hand knowledge about one was oddly appealing.

_Hang on a minute..._

His throat was dry, the air in the pub warm. (He needed a drink.) Yes, a drink would settle his nerves and help him think straig-- _NO!_

“Stop that!” he demanded.

Martin’s hand faltered as it reached for the ale, knocking into the glass. It wobbled and fell, spilling across the table and sending the spiders skittering out of sight. He managed to rescue the glass before it could roll off the table. A warm body pressed up against Martin, the spider person had shifted her seat and was now blocking him into the booth. She took the glass from his shaking hands as the ale started to drip from the edge of the table into his lap.

“L-Look,” Martin began trying to gain a foothold in the situation. “I don’t know what you’re on about but I actually _like_ spiders and honestly, you’re _fascinating_.”

She smiled at that and tilted her head, clearly inviting him to go with her.

“That said, I’m not about to go anywhere with you alone. If you think I won’t cause a scene in public, you’re-- well, you’re wrong.” Martin’s voice faltered at the end. The idea of screaming and making a ruckus filled him with dread. Some of that unease may have been from whatever influence this creature was exuding but the main part was all Martin. He was far too British to be anything but quietly polite in the face of an attacker.

A sharp pain lanced against the side of his neck. Martin reflexively slapped the spot and felt a wet pop as he crushed a spider he hadn’t noticed there. The woman’s face went dark with anger when she saw the remains coating his fingers.

“I-I-I’m sorry!” He scooted as far away from her as the booth would allow. “Oh, god... I didn’t mean to! It, it bit me!”

She shook her head, disappointment obvious despite the blurring in Martin’s vision when she moved. A cold tingle spread out along his body radiating from the bite.

Martin pointed a swaying arm with an accusing finger in her direction. “You need to go now.” His words were starting to slur a bit. “You need to let me go.”

An indulgent smile spread across her face as she shifted seductively closer. As soon as Martin opened his mouth to scream she struck. Sealing her mouth over his, she pushed him against the wall of the booth by his shoulders. His muffled noise of surprise sounded for all the world like that of someone enjoying the company of their significant other. Albeit a little more than was appropriate in public view.

He pushed against her, trying to shove her off of him. Something thick was flowing out of her mouth into his, and he was starting to panic. He couldn’t manage to spit it out so he did his best to block it with his tongue. Despite the cotton wool packing in his brain, he knew he did _not_ want to swallow whatever it was. He tried to scream again but as she climbed more fully into his lap the sound that came out of him was almost a moan.

Even without the venom or whatever was in his drink she would have easily been able to overpower him. That didn’t stop him from trying. In the struggle, Martin’s hands landed awkwardly on her chest, one near her collarbone and the other directly on her breast. She trapped his hands with her own, centering them both on her chest. His attacker was clever, if any of the bar patrons saw what was happening they were going to get the wrong idea about who was assaulting who.  

His body was starting to get the wrong idea too. Her presence in his lap was… _distracting_ as was the persistent thought that if he stopped struggling and just _relaxed_ everything would work out just fine. (Better than fine, the best night of his life.)

 _The last night of my life. Pull it together Martin!_ He chastised himself.

His hands felt like they had fallen asleep. Cold tingles ran along his extremities. He didn’t feel like he was going to pass out but he was having trouble supporting his own weight. His vision had doubled and everything was just so confusing. Focusing on anything was…hard. There was so much happening and it was overwhelming him.

Seemingly satisfied with her work, the creature broke the “kiss”, lingering for a moment to nibble on his lower lip. What he had originally thought was a fluid had more or less solidified in his mouth, effectively locking his jaw in place. His tongue pushed uselessly against it, trying to dislodge what felt almost like a stiff taffy or a nearly solid wad of flavorless gum. At least he’d managed not to swallow any, thank whatever gods cared to listen for that.

She ran a hand along his jaw, giving a playful pinch as she reached his chin. Martin struggled to keep his head upright as he glared at her. He scanned the room behind her looking for help, but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus properly.

“It’s not too late to stop all this.” Is what Martin _wanted_ to say. What came out instead was an assortment of vowels forced through erratic, shallow breaths.

The woman or spider or creature or whatever she was, seemed amused by Martin’s continued resistance. She leaned in to press another kiss against his lips, sealing them as well with more of what he now assumed was some kind of web fluid. When she pulled away she placed a finger to his mouth while she did the same to her own.

“Shhhhhh.”

Martin’s breathing steadied as his ability and will to fight drained away under her gaze. She slid along the bench pulling him along after her. He couldn’t seem to fight her but he did nothing to help. She threw his arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist to support Martin's weight. As she got him up he noticed the wet spot on his trousers where the beer had spilled. How embarrassing. 

Great, he looked _and smelled_ like a drunk. She gave the top of his head an affectionate kiss when his head lolled onto her shoulder. As she lead him to the back door Martin tried desperately to catch the eyes of the other patrons. Most were actively ignoring the two of them, a few gave him knowing if judgmental glances, and one man at the bar shot him a wink and an enthusiastic thumbs up.

A dark gray sedan from the late ‘80s was parked in the alley. A man with close cropped hair and olive skin leaned up against it smoking a cigarette. Martin had a flash of hope for rescue but it was short lived when he stubbed out his cigarette and moved to open the boot.

Whatever compliance the woman had forced upon him vanished as soon as Martin saw the open door. He tried to run away but her grip on his waist was too strong and his knees had started to buckle. She caught him before he hit the ground making tsking noises as she hauled him up. The other man moved to assist in subduing Martin’s flailing struggles.

“You get his legs, I’ll get the arms. Yeah, like that-- Okay, just-- there!”

The air left his lungs in a huff as Martin was dropped boneless into the boot. He started screaming as loud as he could through the gag. The man looked almost sympathetic as he tucked in Martins legs and slammed the lid. He pounded weakly at it with uncoordinated limbs as soon as he’d gotten his bearings.

“Quiet back there!” the man shouted from the front of the car.

Martin had no intention of going quietly. Now that the woman wasn’t with him his head had cleared somewhat. The venom was still working its way through his system stealing his coordination and strength. He managed to bring his hands to his mouth in an attempt to do something about his sealed mouth. Numb and unmoving, his stubborn fingers refused to work as ordered and bumped ineffectively against his face.

He cursed and flailed, trying to aim for and damage one of the tail lights. He cried out when a series of sharp pains jolted him in several places, more spider bites. Numbness spread quickly across the rest of his body making his limbs fall slack. The rumble of the engine and the sway of the car urged Martin into an uneasy darkness.

 


	2. The Spider and the Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She just want's to show Martin a good time.

Martin stood at the front of the room, notecards clutched in his hands. The expressions his fellow students wore ranged from bored to openly hostile. Swallowing his nerves, he wiped the sweat from his too hot palms on the leg of his trousers. He shouldn’t be this anxious, he’d practiced in front of his mother at least ten times. She loved hearing him talk about spiders, it made her happy to see him so engaged in his schoolwork.

“Martin,” the teacher’s voice ran out, deeper than he remembered, “whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded in response but couldn’t quite make out more than the shape of his science teacher. Everything had gone a bit fuzzy, his classmates faces seemed to warp and darken. Martin cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak. Well he tried to anyway, he couldn’t seem to manage it. He wanted to say something, to deliver his presentation the way he had to his mother the night before, but something wouldn’t let him. He tried again but his stubborn jaw wouldn't open, a terrified whine was the only sound that would leave his throat.

Hushed voices passed between the assembled students, building in intensity. He began to hear giggles, quiet at first, but louder now . Martin fidgeted in place as all eyes focused on him. Sweat from his hands began to dampen his notecards. He wiped them again on his trousers but this time his hand touched bare flesh. Laughter was all he heard as he realized was standing in front of the class in only briefs

He tried again to speak, to apologize for his state of dress, to begin his speech. He forced his mouth open but the words caught in his throat.

His classmates had fallen silent.

Martin’s vision began to clear. The faces of the other children glittered with too many multifaceted eyes.

The lump in his throat grew, he felt sick.

“Get on with it, we don’t have all day. Spit it out, boy!”

There was a taste he couldn’t identify, like phlegm but fibrous, trying to slide down his windpipe. He coughed and retched. He was choking. He couldn't breathe! Why wasn’t anyone helping him? They all just stared as he dropped to one knee before falling fully to the floor, desperately gasping for air. His whole body shook with the effort as he spasmed--

 

\--coughing up a wet heap of sticky webbing onto the dirty, cement floor.  

If he had been on his back he might have choked to death on what he just spit out. Fortunately he had been left on his side in what Martin recognized from an old first aid training course as recovery position. Blinking tears from his eyes, he saw he was in some kind of warehouse. He was lying on a camp pad with a thin blanket draped over him and another wadded up under his head. The lights were too bright, his joints ached, his head was much heavier than it should be, and he _itched_ like mad.

When he reached to scratch the bite on his neck he found his wrists had been bound together. That really should worry him but he was too exhausted to care. Numbness tingled in his hands and feet. _Neurotoxin_ , Martin remembered from his school report on spiders, _not typically fatal to humans though I must have gotten quite the dose. If I’m awake it’s probably a good sign._ He flexed his fingers and saw them move even if he couldn't exactly feel it.  

Martin scratched his bare foot along a bite on of his calf and was unsettled to find the lack of trousers in his dream had carried over into reality. Whatever had taken them had mercifully left him his boxers and shirt. He felt a tickling along his leg and fervently hoped it was merely his hair brushing against the blanket and not an army of spiders intent on pumping him full of venom again. Martin wasn’t sure he would like the answer and resolved not to look

His wrists were tied but his legs were still free. In theory he could jump up and make a run for it, lack of trousers be damned. His extremities tingled with numbness making Martin doubt if he could stand properly let alone run. It was easier to just not move much, at least until the fog cleared from his brain. Martin curled in on himself somewhat and squinted against the light, occasionally flexing his hands and feet in an attempt to regain sensation

Slowly his eyes began to adjust as the throbbing in his skull lessened. Motion drew his attention to the edge of his vision and he turned his to track it. A brightly colored jumping spider made its way along the floor in front of him. Soon after a wolf spider followed, it’s long legs picking delicately over a gouge in the concrete. There were more behind it, a many legged  parade. Martin identified them as they passed; lace web, cardinal, another wolf, three more jumping spiders, and so on. None seemed to threaten or even come too close to him, the display serving only to remind him of his captor’s nature.

After the tenth arachnid had passed, a tiny money spider, Martin decided enough was enough, whatever wanted his attention could have it. He sighed and forced himself to a sitting position, tracking the spiders back to their source. He wasn’t surprised to see them lead back to the woman from the bar. She crouched in the far corner, watching him with dark, hungry eyes. Martin was struck by the sudden desire to join her there. He knew there would be safety in the shadows. (She will protect him). He was halfway to his feet before he realized the thought wasn’t entirely his own.

“No,” he said, sitting back on the pad. “You-- you stop that.

She tilted her head in what Martin assumed was disappointment or perhaps resignation as she emerged more fully into the light. If he won’t come to her then she’ll come to him. She did not stand, but instead continued on all fours, fingers in constant motion

“S-s-stay back!” Martin held his bound hands in front of him, index finger raised in warning. “Don’t come any closer.”

She wasn’t in a hurry as she crept toward him, surprisingly fluid despite the awkwardness of the motion. For a moment, Martin considered using the blanket as some kind of shield, as if that could protect him. He scrambled backward instead, scooting away from her as fast as the fading numbness in his feet and his tied hands would let him.

Seemingly amused by his panic, she slowed her pace to let him put more distance between them. He risked a glance behind him to check for any spiders in his path. He remembered her face when he killed one earlier and did not want to risk her anger here. When he looked back, Martin saw her dress had fallen off of one shoulder to reveal bare skin beneath. _No bra_ the horny eighteen year-old in the back of his brain observed with delight.

The wall wasn’t that far away and it wasn’t long before Martin’s back pressed up against the rough cinder blocks. Her movements toward him almost reminiscent of a cat, but with more angles. There was a certain predatory confidence about her Martin found oddly appealing. Fear wasn’t the only emotion washing over him as she approached. He wasn’t sure if that was the intrusive thoughts she kept pushing on him or his own neglected libido picking a very inopportune moment to make itself known. Either way, there was a part of him that was very happy to see her. 

She seemed to pick up on his arousal, giving him a seductive smile as she closed the distance to rest a hand on his leg. He tried to pull away but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped, she had him. _Caught in her web_ , he thought. (And isn’t it nice?)

Martin couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

A rush of adrenaline flooded his system as she leaned in. He cracked his head against the wall jerking back from her attempt at a kiss, fearing another mouthful of webbing. She caught his head in her hands and pressed her lips along his jaw, her soft lips working their way to a spot just behind his ear.

He knew she was dangerous. This was a terrible idea, she could kill him at any moment. She was literally a woman full of spiders yet that knowledge didn’t dull his body’s reaction to her. Martin moaned as she bit down on the delicate flesh over his collar bone. Her fingers tightened in his hair pulling his head back and exposing his throat more fully. If he was going to die, he decided, there were far worse ways to go. Might as well enjoy it while he had the chance. 

She pulled back and met his eyes. Martin felt like he could lose himself in them, maybe he already had. She leaned in, lips parted. This time Martin did not pull away but leaned in. Her tongue played along the inside of his lips, teasing his mouth open. She tasted faintly of salt, beer, and a distinct absence of anything human. None of that mattered to Martin as he let his eyes slip closed, losing himself in the sensation of another body pressed against his own.

Hands released his head and moved down his body. He shuddered at the touch and opened his mouth more fully against hers. Small tickles played along his lips. Martin tried and failed not to imagine tiny, exploring legs. He shifted his focus to the swell of her chest against his own, the heat of her hands on his hips.

Her knee pressing against his groin.

Grabbing him around the waist, she lifted him easily to his feet. She pinned him against the wall, bound arms trapped awkwardly between the two of them. His fingers clutched the fabric of her dress, wishing they were free to explore the curves of her body. She ran her hands under his shirt, pulling the fabric up to expose his torso. Martin flinched as is bare skin touched the cold wall. The shirt bunched as she worked it higher, pulling against his shoulders briefly as she stretched it over his head. She guided it down his arms until it reached his wrists.

“I cant--” he tried, “my hands--”

She silenced him with a look as she raised his arms above his head, shirt and all. Martin hadn’t noticed the hooks mounted along the wall until he felt the metal brush his hand. He felt more than heard the click of a mechanism latching above him. At least there was enough slack that he wasn’t hanging and his shirt gave him padding between him and the metal. He gave an experimental tug of his arms drawing another wicked smile from the woman in front of him. 

Her fingers teased along his arms, then his chest, walking, almost skittering down to rest on the waistband of his boxers. Slowly, agonizingly so, she slipped them from his hips. Martin stifled a gasp as the elastic brushed against his erection. The woman took a step back to admire her work with multifaceted eyes. Martin had never felt so exposed.

Or so appreciated.

He swallowed nervously as she approached, desperately trying to keep his balance on legs shaking in anticipation. She had him right where she wanted him. (Right where he wanted to be.) She ran her fingers over his face, urging his eyes closed as her thumb brushed over his lips. (Don’t watch, just feel.) He tried to catch it in his mouth but it was already gone, moving downward.

She planted kisses along his neck and chest. Martin sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as her tongue ran circles around his nipple, his flesh tightening in response. Before he knew it she had lowered herself in front of him. Even on her knees she was in total control. She took her time teasing him with kisses and touches from feather-light legs and warm breath on wet skin until all he could do was beg.

He moaned, he pleaded, over and over again. “ _Please_ ,” his voice was rough in his throat, had he been screaming?

When she finally took him in her mouth Martin had to clutch the hook to keep from collapsing entirely. A shuddering moan tore out of him as wet heat enveloped him to the hilt. Her tongue played masterfully along his length as she pulled back, nearly releasing him, only to take him fully into herself again. Tiny points of sensation prickled along his cock in concert with her lips. (Don’t look, just feel) Martin kept his eyes screwed shut and let her do what she wanted. (What he wanted)

“I d-don’t know what you’re doing but whatever it is,” Martin managed to gasp, “p-please don’t stop.”

He was so close, the thought she might kill him once they finished was holding him back from the edge but it wasn’t enough anymore. He didn’t think he could hold on for much longer. Heat coiled inside him begging for release. The only thing keeping him from fucking into her was her hands holding his hips firmly against the wall.

Oh, god he was close. Just a few more--

“Don’t come in her mouth.”

Martin’s eyes shot open, darting around to find the source of the voice. “What!?”

“Don’t come in her mouth,” the voice said again, pulling a drag from his cigarette. His tone was light like he was discussing the weather instead of walking in on whatever the hell _this_ was. “Not in her mouth, or really, anywhere inside her for that matter. Not unless you want to be a dad.”

“I’m sorry, _what!?”_ Martin was at a total loss for what was going on. He pulled on his restraints to shift enough to get a better look. The man from the alley was leaning against a table casually watching his companion suck Martin’s dick. In one hand he held a steaming mug and a lit cigarette while Martin’s trousers were folded over the other arm.

“She’s pregnant, sort of. Just _riddled_ with eggs. Been trying to find someone to fertilize them for a while now. Just thought you should know before you ended up on the hook for child support. Or, well, as dinner.”

She still had her lips wrapped around him but stopped moving when the man mentioned ‘eggs’.” She pouted in his direction as much as possible with a mouth full of dick.

“I, um, I’m not-- _ah,”_ Martin tried to pull himself free but she still had him pressed against the wall and was showing no sign of releasing him. “I’m not sure that’s quite how spiders _work_.”

“ _Spiders_ maybe, but Widd here isn’t exactly a spider.”

Martin looked down to the woman between his legs. Her breath tickled against his hair and he felt himself twitch in her mouth. “Widd is it?"

She nodded, the motion feeding the heat he was trying to dissipate.

"Could you..um. I would really appreciate it if you--” (Finished me off.) “No, stop that! It’s just that--”

“Spit him out, Widd. Better luck next time,” he chuckled.

Widd withdrew slowly, drawing the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock as she went. Martin clenched his fists and fought to hold back the orgasm that so dangerously wanted to escape. She circled the head once before releasing him with a wet pop. Sad eyes looked up at him, like a kicked puppy, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Martin looked away and tried to focus on his breathing to pull back from the edge and calm himself down

“Oh, silly me, I haven't introduced myself. The name’s Daniel but you can call me Dan.” He stepped over to where Martin was stood against the wall. “And you’ve already gotten acquainted with Widd.”

  
“I, um, what? Yes, I-- Martin. I-I’m Martin.” He did his best to avoid eye contact with Dan. Something about them seemed a bit off. That and the awkwardness of his cock still bobbing heavily between them made Martin never want to look at another person ever again.

“I know, found your wallet when I was washing the beer out of these.” He raised his arm to indicate Martin’s trousers.

“Thanks, I suppose? Could I, um... Could I get those back?” Martin was not keen on trying to carry on a conversation while chained naked to a wall and sporting a throbbing erection. Through with this level of embarrassment, he might not have to worry about that last part for too much longer.

“Sure thing, that’s why I washed them,” Dan smiled. “But are you sure you don’t want to finish first?” He indicated Widd.

Martin’s cock gave a hopeful twinge causing her to shift toward him with parted lips. He stepped back from her as much as his bindings would allow. “N-no. I’d really rather not be a father to hundreds of spiders if it’s all the same.”

“Thousands, probably.”

“Then definitely not.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure, I did just burst in and cock-block the two of you.” He glanced down at Widd, “I’m sure she’ll make me pay for that later.” She shot him a look that said that was very much the case.

Martin fidgeted as Dan continued to watch him. He felt a blush rise in his face and he desperately wanted to cover himself. It wasn’t just Dan’s eyes that were off putting, something in the way he carried himself was wrong. The proportions weren’t quite right. It wasn’t until Dan took another pull of his cigarette that Martin finally caught on to what he was.

“Are you…um? Is she…?” Martin struggled for words. There was no context for the situation he was in. The longer it went on the more he feared Dan would drop his pleasant demeanor and start peeling his skin off.

“What is it? Spit it out.”

Martin’s dream flashed through his mind at the words and he suppressed a cough. “Are you going to hurt me or, or kill me?” The words came out in a rush. “Because if so I’d rather get it over quickly.”

“I wouldn't hurt you, Martin, not unless you asked nicely.” Dan smiled, taking a step closer. “But kill you? Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I’m tied up in a warehouse?” Martin said with a pull on the hook that still held his hands above his head.  

“We thought you’d run away before we had a chance to talk.” Dan cocked his head at him. “Would you have run, Martin?”

Martin was starting to panic. Widd was still eyeing his naked body with a mix of lust and hunger while the friendly, smiling demeanor of the doll in front of him was deeply confusing.

Dan sighed, “Widd, get him down from there, would you? My hands are full.”

“A-are you going to let me go?”

“Not yet.”

“What do you want!?” Martin sobbed.  

“Not to _kill_ you! We just needed to talk with the Archivist.”

“Well, I’m not the Archivist!”

“We know that _now!_ I’ve seen your wallet.”

“But how--”

“We’ve been scoping out the Archives, you’re the only one that seems to be doing any real work down there.”

“I-- that’s fair.” Martin admitted.

Widd reached up to unclasp the hook, her body brushing tantalizingly against him. Martin nearly fell when his legs had to support his whole weight again. He bent down to pull up his boxers as soon as he recovered his balance and started struggling with his wadded up shirt.  

“But how did you pick _me_ out? There are dozens of employees that work at the Magnus Institute.”

Widd held out her hand. Several spiders sat in her palm, their glittering eyes caught the low light.

“Oh. You’re lucky it was me you were watching and not Jon. He hates spiders. I keep asking him not to kill them, they perform a vital role in the ecosystem.” (He likes spiders, he likes Widd.) “I actually like spiders. I-- h-hang on… Stop that!“

Dan shot her a warning look. “Widd.”

Her face was the perfect image of innocence.

“She’s going to keep doing that you know.” Dan dropped his spent cigarette to the floor and crushed it underfoot.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“That suggestion thing. She can’t really help it, not when she can tell there’s interest.”

“But I’m--” (Interested, very interested.) Martin shifted as far away from Widd as he could without actually touching Dan. “N-not Interested,” he managed to force out despite himself.

“Could have fooled me.” Dan looked pointedly at the bulge in Martin’s boxers. “You sure you don’t want any help with that? I could lend a hand if you’d rather Widd sit this one out.”

Widd finally stood up and walked over to Dan, hooking her arm through his. (They could both help, let them help you.) Martin’s knees buckled and he fell backward into the wall. (You deserve a release.)

Martin had begun to soften but was now painfully hard again. He whimpered as he felt himself brush against the fabric of his boxers. It took everything he had not to reach down to touch himself.

“Come on, Widd. That’s not fair,” Dan scolded. “We’re never going to get a chance to have a proper chat if you keep that up.”

Martin looked back and forth between the two bickering like an old married couple. (Who wants to talk anyway?)

Dan rolled his eyes with a sigh. The skin around them didn’t quite move right and for a split second Martin thought they might tumble free of their sockets. “Widd, I need you to go sit over there for now. We have something bigger at stake here. We’ll find someone else later, I promise.”

The thought of Widd “mating” with someone else filled Martin with an indescribable sadness. He wanted to reach out to her, to wipe the tears from her eyes. (To fill her with his seed.) He clutched his head and shook away the disappointment he was sure didn’t belong to him.

“Goddammit, Widd! What did I just say? He doesn’t want that kind of responsibility in his life! Your eggs can wait.”

Martin felt the pressure in his head ease somewhat as Widd crossed to where he’d first seen her when he woke up. His dick was throbbing and his boxers were damp with precome but at least his head was clearing up.

A rough hand fell on his shoulder and he flinched away from it. Not only was the contact surprising, but the texture on the palm was all wrong, stitches probably. Martin lowered his hands from his face to look at Dan. He offered the still steaming mug. “Tea?”

It smelled nice and strong, he could really do with a cuppa after the day he’d had. Come to think of it, was it even the same day anymore? How long had he been unconscious? He considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head no. “Thanks but the last time I accepted a drink from a stranger I was poisoned and stuffed in the boot of a car.”

Dan chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair.”

 


	3. For a Good Time Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan lends Martin a hand.

The warehouse where they had taken Martin was empty, unoccupied for years by the look of it. Dan had taken over one of the sparsely furnished offices as living space for himself. There wasn’t an actual bed Martin could see but who knew if something like Dan even needed to sleep?

“Wrap up in that if you feel the need to cover yourself,” Dan said as he threw a light blanket from the torn two-seater couch at Martin. “I’m not giving your trousers back until I’m sure you’re not just going to make a mess of them again right away.” He glanced down to Martin’s damp underwear. “If you like, I can wash your boxers too.”

“Th-thanks... I guess, and no, I’d rather wear them.” 

“Suit yourself.” Dan shrugged. 

Martin struggled for a bit with the blanket. With his hands tied in front of him he couldn’t manage to reach around himself. He fumbled with the fabric and dropped it. “I’m sorry, I can’t--”

“Right, of course. How rude of me.” 

Martin held his hands out, hopeful that Dan would cut him loose. The skin doll ignored his outstretched hands and took a knee to retrieve the fallen blanket. The back of Dan’s hand brushed against Martin’s bulge as he wrapped it around his waist and tucked it into itself. Martin’s knees wobbled at the contact and he bit back a gasp. Rough palms gripped his hips to steady him. 

“Don’t pass out on me now,” Dan chuckled. “Go have a seat on the couch.” 

Martin took a steadying breath and stared straight ahead. There was a wrongness in the feeling of the hands still on him. He tried to focus on that instead of their location, the man on his knees before him, or the feeling of warmth snaking through him. 

He ached to feel someone around him again. It would be so easy to curl his fingers in Dan’s hair, to guide him forward. Hold him there until he found his release. Was that him? Was that thought his? Was it something he actually wanted or a holdover from Widd’s earlier influence? Martin wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer to that question.

He was afraid he already knew. 

He glanced down to see Dan looking up at him with a glint in his eye, like he knew what Martin was thinking when he saw him on his knees. Dan’s thumbs brushed along the crest of his hips just above the blanket. As he stood, his soft hair brushed against Martin’s fingers. They twitched slightly but he did not grab hold. 

When Dan moved his hands away Martin finally saw what gave them their stranger texture. A line of stitches crossed his palm running along his life line. Probably from when the skin had first been removed back before Dan became what he is now. He caught Martin staring and gestured for him to sit as he lowered himself into a battered office chair across from the couch. 

“So you know I’m not the Archivist, why am I still here?” Martin asked once he thought he could speak again. “And what do you want with Jon?”

“What does anyone want with the Archivist?”

“Don’t kill him, please.” 

Dan rolled his eyes, less unsettling now that Martin had seen the motion before but still more than a bit sickening. “Not that, try again.” 

“The circus wanted to hold him, keep him away from the Institute. Jon mentioned something about you being after his skin.” 

“Not me.” He dug in his pocket to pull out another cigarette.    


“But, you’re with the circus-” 

Dan’s expression turned dark. His hand curled into a fist crushing the unlit tobacco. “I am  _ not _ one of Orsinov’s puppets.” 

“But your eyes, and yo- your hands…” 

Dan was dangerously still for a moment. “Not anymore,” he said quietly, “and  _ never _ again.” 

Martin fidgeted on the couch for a bit before trying again. “Is this one of those ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ kind of things then?”

“You could say that.” He noticed the remains of the cigarette in his hand. Dropping the pieces on the floor, he pulled out a fresh one. 

The flame illuminated his face for an instant, reflecting the anger in his eyes. As Dan took his first drag the scent of sickly sweet smoke wafted over to Martin. Dan closed his eyes and held it in his lungs for longer than Martin thought possible. When he relaxed as he exhaled then flashed a charming, nonchalant smile. 

“H-how did you leave?” Martin asked warily, afraid of angering the creature that was once called Daniel again. 

“It got bored with me. I was one of the first, didn’t do that good of a job with me. Stitches all over the place” He held his palms up for Martin to see then pushed up a sleeve to reveal more running along the inside of his forearm. “Soon they had better, more handsomely created dolls. Their skins had hardly a blemish. Didn’t need me anymore so I left.”

“You just… left? It was that simple?”

“Not exactly but more or less. I thought someone might come after me but nothing so far. I met up with Widd not long after and we’ve been watching each other’s backs ever since.” 

Martin felt his cock twitch with interest at the mention of Widd. He did his best to ignore it and move on. “I’m glad to hear you aren’t with the cir-- with them but you still haven’t told me why you want to talk to Jon so badly.”

“Information,” he said with a breath of smoke.

“You want to give your statement?”

Dan scoffed “No, of course not.”

“Then what?”

“The Archivist knows things. We’d like to know things too. We were hoping that he could tell us how to keep Orsinov from throwing their little party and putting us on the guest list.” 

“But you just said--” 

“That it was bored with me  _ for now _ . I image that when the time comes it’s going to want all of their  _ good friends _ to be there.”

“Well that’s the kind of stuff Jon’s been tracking down. Maybe if you come in and give a st--”

“No, absolutely not.” He waved his hand, cigarette leaving behind trails of smoke behind it. “Feeding the eye right now is not a good idea. You should get out, Martin. Go rogue from your patron like we did.” 

Martin’s face fell. “I- I can’t do that.” 

“Why not? Best decision I ever made.” Dan cocked his head and frowned, "at least the best one I remember, there’s a lot missing from before, all in pieces.” 

“I can’t.

“Come on,” Dan flashed him a winning smile. “It’ll be easier with three of us rather than just two.” 

“I mean, I literally can’t. I can’t leave, I can’t quit. There’s something stopping me, stopping us, from leaving. Trust me, we’ve tried.” 

“I guess that whole Ceaseless Watcher would make it difficult for you to slip out unnoticed but we can help. Defying our makers, those that would call us their master, it’s what we do.”

The couch creaked under Martin as he shifted. The cloying smoke smell was starting to make him lightheaded. He would love to take them up on their offer, leave it all behind. Maybe even move to Paris, he’d always liked the idea of living in Paris. “It’s not just that I’m being watched, I’m bound to the Institute somehow. Or Elias, I dunno how it works. Tim got sick when he tried to leave, really sick.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably get sick too, if you keep me here.” Martin hung his head and stared at his hands. He pulled a bit on the rope holding them together.

“Not for a while yet, I’m sure.” Dan took a final drag and stubbed out his cigarette. “Let’s have a look at you then.” 

Dan spun sideways in his chair and kicked off the floor to roll over to Martin. He pulled back as Dan reached a hand toward his face. “Relax, I already said I won’t hurt you.” 

Martin stilled and became very aware of the hand Dan rested on his knee. He could practically feel his pupils dilate as Dan caught him under the chin, the stitches on his hand brushing lightly against his skin. He leaned forward at Dan’s urging turning to the left and back to the right while the other man examined him. 

Martin could feel the ghosts of desires that were not his brushing against his awareness. At least he tried to tell himself they weren’t his. The line blurred between his own secret lusts and the foreign seeds planted there. They twined together, drawing them forth into a need that pulsed through him despite his attempts to push it from his mind. 

He ached to be touched. Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere  _ please. _ Martin’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the hand on his face. He relished the weight of Dan’s spread fingers pressing along his thigh. How could he have been repulsed by their texture before? He needed more. 

“She really got her hooks into you, didn’t she?”

It took a moment for Martin to register that Dan had spoken, he was too focused on his own skin. “I- I guess,” he said shakily, eyes still closed. “I’m not- This isn’t usually like me.” 

“She has that effect on people.” He squeezed Martin’s leg in what was likely meant to be friendly reassurance but he had to fight against a moan building in his throat. “You’ve got it bad too, must be quite the dry spell she tapped into.”

“It’s been a while, yeah.” He murmured, nuzzling into the hand against his cheek, seeking Dan’s fingers with his mouth. 

Martin whimpered at the loss when Dan pulled away. 

“Until we deal with that, I’m not going to be able to tell the difference between Widd and anything else that might be attached to you.”

“We?” Martin hummed. 

“You didn’t exactly turn down my offer earlier. You can do it yourself if you’d rather, but you seem like you’re enjoying this.” Dan pushed his hand farther up Martin’s thigh eliciting a gasp. 

The damn holding back his urges crumbled and broke, Martin finally let himself be carried away on that wave. He hooked his bound hands over Dan’s head, pulling him close enough to press his face against his neck. With more teeth than lips, he worked his way along the pliant flesh of his throat. He twisted his fingers in soft hair, pulling back hard to expose Dan’s olive skin more fully. 

There was a groan in his ear followed by a soft chuckle. “A very dry spell indeed, to get you all worked up like this.”

“Shut up.” Martin trapped his lips with his own silencing any further comment. Dan’s distinctive scent, sour-sweet smoke mixed with cedar, filled his nostrils with every breath. Up close, with Dan’s hands circling his waist, he found he didn’t mind. 

The pull of Dan’s smile softened as Martin worked his tongue into his mouth. The taste surprised him, he expected tobacco but encountered something sweeter, something just out of reach. Martin’s frantic pace slowed as he savored the sensation of almost knowing along with the touch of Dan’s lips against his own. 

Dan must have pulled Martin into his lap or maybe he climbed there himself. It didn’t matter how he got there, Martin straddled him, blanket long forgotten on the couch. The office chair tipped dangerously backward as he pressed against Dan. Martin’s hands clenched at the back of his neck as the friction sent a jolt of pleasure through him. 

“Careful,” Dan hissed. 

“Why?” Martin demanded pulling again on the dark hair and sinking his teeth into the hollow behind Dan’s ear. 

Dan reached behind him to grab Martin’s hands. He pulled them away from his hair by the rope binding them together. Martin groaned and rolled his hips as the hemp bit into his wrists. 

“Because I’m stitched together, remember?” He ran the stitches in his palm along Martin’s face, tickling the thread over his lips. “Don’t want to tear.” 

Martin pressed a kiss into Dan’s hand. “Point taken.” He pulled his arms from around the other man to grasp Dan’s wrist. He teased his tongue along the fibers and planted another kiss against his palm. “I’ll be more gentle.”  

“I didn’t say you had to do that,” he grinned wickedly, “just don’t pull so hard on my hair is all.” 

His grip tightened around Dan’s wrist as he took two fingers into his mouth and began to suck. He moaned around them and began grinding against Dan’s leg. Dan’s other hand gripped the crest of Martin’s hip, his thumb teasing along the elastic of his boxers. Martin’s hips twitched in encouragement when he finally slipped his fingers beneath the fabric. 

“Oh, god, please,” he begged, breathless, head falling back temporarily from the fingers in his mouth before leaning back to devour them again. 

Dan chuckled at his desperation. “I suppose you’ve been pushed right up to the edge and pulled back enough times for one day.” 

Nodding in agreement Martin shifted his focus to Dan’s thumb. Dan brushed his hand closer to Martin’s cock only to pull away just before touching him. Martin’s frustrated groan pitched higher in desperation as Dan pulled away from his mouth as well. He tried to make a grab to bring it back but a tutting noise from Dan coupled with a sharp tug on his hair stopped him short. 

Martin keened in the back of his throat. “Please?” He shifted against Dan seeking friction. Another pull of his hair stilled him. “ _ Please!” _ he tried again, actually meeting Dan’s eyes willingly for the first time. Looking at them there was no denying Dan was a monster. 

Martin didn’t care. 

Something in Dan’s face shifted. The playful teasing was still there but underneath it was a hunger. He traced the hand slick with Martin’s saliva down his belly creeping ever closer to his swollen cock. Martin held as still as he could manage, fearing that one wrong move would again deny him of the touch he craved. 

“Please, Dan.”

Martin couldn’t help but thrust into the sudden pressure that enveloped him. The stitching on Dan’s palm trailed along the underside of his cock as he stroked, not too rough but unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He buried his face in Dan’s shoulder and bit down on his shirt to hold back the scream. 

For a moment he thought he felt the weight of eyes on the back of his neck. Dan’s fingers chased the sensation away before it could fully realize. They traced through his hair in the same rhythm as the hand between his legs sending shivers down his spine. 

It didn’t take long before Martin’s whole body started to tense in anticipation of release. Not surprising since he’d been so close even before Dan started touching him. His skin was electrified, every nerve on fire. Martin kissed Dan’s wrist, counting the stitches there with his tongue as he worked his way back to his hand. 

“Do you want me to…?” Dan asked after Martin closed his lips around his index finger and eagerly began to suck

“No,” Martin slurred around the digit, “Just like that. Don’t stop.” He pulled a second finger into his mouth, tongue working against it frantically without any sense of rhythm. 

Needy moans escaped with every breath coming faster and faster. In response Dan slowed his pace to a crawl. “Goddamn you,” Martin gasped, thrusting against him, urging him faster. 

Dan’s unnatural eyes sparkled in response. “No need for that kind of language.” 

“Fuck you.”

“No,” Dan chided, pulling his hand away from Martin’s mouth to tangle gently in his hair. “Fuck,  _ you _ .” He punctuated his assertion with a sudden pull that forced Martin’s head back with a gasp. 

Before he knew it Dan resumed his earlier pace, faster actually. Martin tried to look down at Dan but those fingers tightened in his hair keeping him in place. “Oh, fuck, please” he hissed. “yes.”

Martin could barely speak he was so close. He clutched at Dan’s shirt, desperate for an anchor. His eyes screwed shut as the fabric twisted in his hands. Dan slowed his pace again tearing a sob from Martin’s chest as he gasped for breath. The tension in his hair eased and his head was guided to rest against Dan’s shoulder.

Dan’s strokes slowed but had gotten firmer. He took the time to run his fingers along the head of Martin’s cock, thumbing open the slit before pulling down again. Martin shivered and buried his face against Dan’s chest murmuring small pleading noises there. 

Each pull on his cock brought him closer making his toes curl. His hips bucked, yearning for more. Martin squinted tears from the corner of his eyes as he finally shuddered and spilled. He sat on Dan’s lap, gasping into his chest as Dan continued stroking his spent cock for a few moments longer. 

“I told you you’d make a mess of your trousers if I gave them back to you.” Dan whispered in his ear with a smile.

Martin huffed out an exhausted laugh and looked down. “I suppose you were right. I seem to have made a mess of the both of us.” He sighed contentedly, breathing in that strange smell. He shifted slightly when he noticed Dan pressing against his leg. “Oh, um. I’m not sure of the etiquette here. Would you, um… like a hand?” 

Dan seemed surprised by his own arousal when Martin mentioned it. “Hm, maybe in a bit? We should get this cleaned up first before Widd wanders by and does that for us.” 

The thought of Widd collecting his semen to fertilize herself was not a pleasant one. “Y-yeah, I guess so.” Martin cast his eyes around in case she was lingering nearby. (To hold him and stroke his hair.) Yes, fingers in his hair  _ was _ rather pleasant, he could go for more of that. (To lick his cock clean.) 

“Hmmm,” Martin hummed, nuzzling against Dan. “That would be nice.” 

“What would be nice?” 

“Huh? Oh, if Widd--” Martin’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Hang on.” 

Dan let out a full, throaty laugh. “She’s still at it?”

“I think so, yeah. It’s not as strong though.” 

“That’s good but we’d still better be quick about it.” Dan leaned forward to grab the discarded blanket from the floor. The action nearly toppled them both from the office chair as it tipped forward again. 

Martin shed the mess that was his boxers, using a dry patch to wipe himself clean. He stood awkwardly with his hands in front of himself as Dan checked the floor. “So um, can I-- Can I have my trousers back now?”    
  
“Oh, yeah.” Dan wadded up the soiled blanket and tossed it on the desk. 

“And..” Martin asked hesitantly, tugging at the rope around his wrists. 

“Soon.” 

Martin sighed but took his trousers from Dan. It was a bit of a struggle but he managed to get them on without help. 

“So um, did that? Did that-- Did we, ha… clear away the cobwebs?” Martin’s lips twitched upward at his own joke. 

“Should have done.” Dan narrowed his eyes and ran his hand along Martin’s hair. “Didn’t get all of them, obviously.” He laughed as Martin’s eyes slipped closed at his touch. “But at least I can tell what’s her and what’s not.” 

“And?”

Dan whistled. “Something has laid a  _ deep _ claim into you. Not much Widd and I can do about that.” 

“I figured as much.” Martin said glumly.

“Sorry if I gave you any false hope. Whatever that Elias guy is into it is complicated, more than just the Eye. I do not envy you or the rest of the Magnus Institute.”

“Just the Archives. At least as far as we can tell.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Dan produced another of his weird cigarettes and lit it. “Something like that would be hard to maintain on more than a handful of people.”

Martin sank into the couch with a dark laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Dan exhaled in a cloud of smoke. 

“‘Like fingers on a hand.’” He shook his head. “Something Elias said once, it’s probably nothing.” 

“Just because we can’t get you out doesn’t mean you can’t work to take them down from the inside. Slip us some information now and then. Be our man inside.” 

“I’m pretty sure he’ll see me. Stop me.” Martin sighed and leaned back. “He’s probably watching right now.”    


Dan took a drag and forced the smoke out of his nose. “I wouldn’t worry about that here. We didn’t grab you unprepared.” 

“You thought I was the Archivist.” Martin deadpanned. 

“Yes, fine,” Dan sputtered, “but this place--- This place is protected from the Eye. Isn’t it Widd?” He turned to acknowledge his companion as she entered the office. “And we have our own ways of keeping watch.” 

Martin shifted to the far end of the couch when Widd approached but found himself leaning toward her when she sat down. She looked so soft, so inviting. (Much more comfortable than Dan Dan the Mannequin Man.)

Martin burst out laughing at the thought and turned to Widd. “Dan Dan the Mannequin Man!?” He gasped between breaths, “she really is mad at you.” He nearly fell over he was laughing so hard. Martin hand to make the conscious decision to stay upright rather than lay his head in Widd’s lap. (To rest a while.) 

“She can be a real child when she doesn’t get her way.” Dan sighed. “Though I will say that direct translation isn’t quite her thing. That specific phrase is something pulled from  _ your _ subconscious.” 

Martin was still shaking with laughter and too breathless to speak. He might have forced out an apology but it was hard to be sure. Dan shook his head. “Come on, Widd, leave him alone. What do you want anyway?”

Something Martin couldn’t identify passed between the two of them. Dan snuffed out the dying cigarette and immediately lit a new one. “You’re sure?” 

She nodded, expression sober

“Fuck,” he breathed, “speak of the devil and he shall appear.” 

“What’s going on?”   


“They found us.”   
  
For some reason, the thought of what might be a rescue filled him with dread. “How? You said--”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Dan cut him off. “Maybe talking about the Eye drew it’s attention. Maybe the wards on this place have faded too much over time. Maybe they tracked you back here in some mundane way. Whatever the case, we need to leave.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’re staying here. You’re too heavily marked to hide for long. Besides we’ve had our chat. If you change your mind and want to help us--”

“I’ll tell the spiders.”

“NO! Don’t tell the spiders about us,” Dan insisted. Terror colored Widd’s features and she frantically shook her head. “Most of them aren’t Widd’s. We’ll find another way.” 

“But I thought-- But she…?” Martin looked back and forth between them, confused. 

Dan grabbed a bag from under the desk and began to shove things into it. “She’s in the same boat as me, hiding from the things we were expected to serve.” 

“If you’re leaving then can you untie me first? Or at least leave me a knife and I can deal with it myself.” The venom had dissipated and he could feel all his fingers again but the ropes had started to chafe.

“It’s better if they find you like this, less suspicious.”

“What? I don’t…” 

Dan sighed, “Do you want them to think you’re working with us?”

“But I’m not.” 

“Right, but you see how this looks.” He gestured to the wadded up boxers Widd was examining.

“Hey! Give those back!” Martin snatched them from her hand. She narrowed her eyes at him and he almost wanted to hand them back. “Stop that!” he said, shaking off the impulse. 

“Widd,” Dan warned, “leave it. Big picture remember? We need to get out of here. How close are they?” He nodded, “Right, well stop dawdling then.” 

In one smooth motion, Widd shifted herself to land in Martin’s lap. Her knees planted on either side of him, her chest pinning his arms between them. He barely had time to struggle before she snaked her hands around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, full and deep. His mouth parted under hers before his brain caught up enough to stop it. Familiar tickles played across his lips and his tongue. There was a promise of more in his thoughts. (If only we had the time.)

“Sorry about this,” Dan said, just as Widd broke the kiss. 

Confused and breathless, Martin opened his mouth to speak only to cry out in pain as Widd’s spider bit his neck. She had his arms still pinned and wasn’t able to slap this one away. The muscles in his neck s head began to relax causing his head to loll to one side. 

He looked to Dan, betrayed. “Why?” 

“It’s better for everyone this way. If they ask, we were after the Archivist and grabbed you by mistake, which is true. Be vague and let them draw their own conclusions from there.” 

Martin’s world started to blur and warp. 

Again.

He slumped deeper into the couch, the venom was working quicker than before. He was dimly aware of Dan and Widd moving around the room. A lace web spider hung from the ceiling. Was she watching him? One of Widd’s left behind or just a normal spider in an abandoned warehouse? (Sleep.)

Martin might have passed out, he wasn’t really sure. He thought he heard a whispered voice in his ear. “Something to remember us by.” Just as something pressed against his side, sliding into his pocket. 

He drifted. 

Before too long he heard his name. He sat placidly as worried voices filled the air around him. A light shone in his eye and he flinched away from it.  _ Stop. _ He shrugged away from the hands checking him over.  _ I’m fine! _

“Martin? Martin can you hear me?”

_ Of course I can hear you, you’re right next to my ear. _

Someone shook him gently by the shoulder. Basira maybe? “Martin, I need you to answer me. Please.” 

It was only then Martin realized he hadn’t been speaking aloud. He turned to face the voice, it was Basira after all. It took him a moment to remember how to form words.  “Uh, m’okay, Basira,” he slurred. “pidder bite.”    
  
“He’s not making any sense.” Another voice. Melanie, maybe?

“I think he’s saying ‘spider bite’.” Basira again.

Martin nodded his head and immediately regretted it. He brought his hands to his head and for the first time, found them free. 

“It’s okay now, Martin, you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Martin grumbled. He was getting this whole talking thing figured out now. He rubbed his chafed wrists. “Thanks, I-- It seems to be wearing off faster than the last time.”

“What does, Martin?”

“The venom. My hands aren’t tingly or anything. I should be fine in a minute or two I think.” 

Basira looked concerned at the mention of venom. "Tim, did you bring in that water?” 

“Yeah, here you go.” 

A cool, plastic bottle was pressed into his hand. “Thanks.” He spilled a little down his front on the first try but got the hang of it soon enough. A few minutes later Martin seemed to come more fully back to himself. 

They had questions, and he did his best to answer them without going into too much detail. Basira wanted to know about this “spider husk” person while Melanie asked about Dan’s stitches and his cigarettes. 

“I don’t understand why Daniel Rawlings would be after Jon.” Tim said. “I mean Jon’s not the most likable guy but--”   
  
“Wait, Daniel Rawlings?” Basira asked.

“Yeah, the guy with the freaky eyes, smokes weird cigarettes, and runs a taxidermy shop. We had a statement about him about a year ago.”

“Daniel Rawlings is dead. Daisy told me Sarah said that Gertrude killed him.” 

“Hang on,” Melanie pipped in. “Was that Sarah a Sarah Baldwin by chance?”    
  
“I think so? Ripped her own arm off to escape.” Basira shrugged. “That’s what Daisy said anyway.” 

Melanie chewed her lip. “What are the odds that there are two skin dolls called Daniel?” 

Tim’s eyes began to widen. “Wait, what did you say he looked like again?” 

“Tall, dark hair, about your complexion… oh Christ. No. It couldn’t be.”

Basira and Melanie exchanged confused looks as Tim dug out his phone and started scrolling. He found what he was looking for and thrust the picture at Martin. 

“Is this him?”

“The face is all wrong but--”

“But what?”

“Th-the hair, maybe?”    
  
“Jesus, that’s what Jon said about taxidermy Daniel.” Tim began. “Different body type, height, facial structure but the hair…” 

“I didn’t know, Tim. I had no idea.”

“Okay, what is going on?” Melanie asked. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“H-he said he didn’t remember much from before he-- from before.”

“Before the circus took Danny, took my brother.” Tim finished. 

“Jesus,” Melanie breathed. 

“Dan said he was one of the first. That Nikola got bored with him, found shinier toys. So he left and she hasn’t come after him yet.” 

“So he’s alive, Nikola doesn’t have him anymore?” Tim looked almost happy for the first time in over a year. “Where did he go!? How long ago?

“I don’t know. I wish I could help you but I think I passed out before they left.” 

Tim let out a frustrated sigh. “This is still closer than I’ve ever been. I’ll take what victory I can get. Danny’s out there, he’s alive, and I’ll find him.” 

Martin furrowed his brow and focused on his last moments with Dan-- with Danny and Widd.  “Wait, I think they might have left me something.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. Tim plucked it from his fingers before he could finish unfolding it.

“What in the hell? What is this?” 

Tim dropped the paper into Martin’s lap. A phone number was scrawled across the torn page with a lipstick mark kissed over top of it. In the corner a small spider had been drawn next to a stick figure holding a cigarette

Martin blushed a deep crimson as the weight of three pairs of eyes focused on him. “I can explain--” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Martin, are those your boxers?”


End file.
